


Photoshoot

by its_mike_kapufty



Series: Rhink Ficlets [6]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Photography, heart eyes, pain and comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 02:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17500028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_mike_kapufty/pseuds/its_mike_kapufty
Summary: Rhett's promo photoshoot isn't going well due to his back pain. Luckily the director has an unorthodox solution.





	Photoshoot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mythicallyrhink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythicallyrhink/gifts).



> For the spot of sunshine in the fandom. ❤

“Sir, we just need a few more shots, and this will be done. We just need a smile.”

The flash bulb’s popping peppered the air with light as Rhett shifted yet again, running his hands along his pants and giving his best Hollywood face to the lens. His outfit had been picked out by wardrobe, and despite loving the sunflower-patterned button-up, he didn’t really feel like himself in the false glasses. But smiling was the difficult part; it felt like someone had replaced his lower back with a hot length of wrought iron, gnawing in conjunction at every last muscle in his body, causing him to perpetually grimace.

Smizing or no, the photographers weren’t getting what they needed.

This was punctuated when the coordinator of the shoot sighed and folded his arms across his chest, wincing at him in sympathy instead of the standard irritation Rhett had come to expect from those in the industry. “If it’s too painful for you, Mr. McLaughlin, we can reschedule. The promo doesn’t release for another two weeks--it’d be cutting it close, but we can do it.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Rhett growled and dropped his arms limp to his sides. Seething with frustration, he rubbed the afflicted area yet again, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, guys. Not mad at any of you,” he clarified, looking around with furrowed brows to the wide-eyed hired team, “mad at myself. It always comes out of nowhere and just… _God.”_

“It’s okay, sir. We’ll reschedule, yeah? In the meantime, you should see someone about that. We can’t afford to postpone twice this late in the game, so--”

“What’s going on?”

The heavy door of the studio slamming shut drew all eyes over to Link, looking like a civilian who’d found his way in off the street: baggy turquoise hoodie, trendy cap, backpack slung off of one shoulder as he sipped a near-empty cup of boba tea.

Immediate apologies dammed up behind Rhett’s teeth, all struggling to reach the air first. “Look, Link, I know your shoot went fine and we were supposed to have this whole thing out of the way by now, and we’re gonna have to pay for a second session which I’ll cover out of my own pocket, and it’s my _god damn back again,_ Link, it’s just so much worse than it was this morning, and--”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa whoa,” Link set his drink down on the nearest table and patted down the air. “Rhett, it’s okay. It’s not the end of the world. I know how bad it gets, man. S’okay.”

For the first time in the past thirty minutes, Rhett took a deep, shaky breath, feeling his blood pressure drop. “I’m not used to taking solo shots. It’s weird. Almost like I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Yeah, I think we all knew that from the watermelon shoot,” Link laughed, and Rhett smirked when a couple of the assistant photographers exchanged curious looks.

The coordinator squinted at Rhett, then slowly shifted his gaze to Link. “Mr. Neal, can you come over here, please?”

Happy to oblige, Link stepped over to stand just behind the camera. “What’s up?”

“Can you stay and talk to him? If he keeps his eyes on the camera while you talk, we might be able to get what we need.”

Rhett’s neck burned as he passed another cursory glance around the set, suddenly feeling much like an anxious child who needed their mother near to behave.

“Sure! No problem. Hear that, Rhett? I’m savin’ you money,” Link beamed, dropping his backpack to the floor. “I’m here, bo. You can still handle a shoot without me in it if I’m just out of frame, right?”

Unable to stop himself, Rhett smiled, feeling silly for the gushing admissions that had fallen out of his mouth upon seeing his best friend. “I guess we can call it even for--”

“Sorry, sir, if you respond we can’t get the pictures we need. Just listen to him, and do whatever feels natural for poses.”

Face growing hot, Rhett cleared his throat. “Right. Sorry.”

“Oh man, this is an _amazingly_ rare situation you’ve put me in, Mr. Cameraman. I can talk to Rhett, but he can’t talk back? Hoo, buddy. What an opportunity. We might need to wheel him out of here at the end. I dunno if he can handle not talking back,” Link rambled, smiling from ear to ear as he watched Rhett in front of the light screen.

The older one was trying not to laugh, glaring at--

“Sir, I’m so sorry. We need you to look at the camera.”

“Shit. _C’mon_ , McLaughlin,” he admonished himself, slapping his thighs impatiently.

“Can’t look at me _or_ talk to me,” Link giggled, wheeling in place. “This is awesome. Hey Rhett, what’s that behind you?” With a feigned gasp, he laced his hands together behind his head and pulled a face. “Oh gosh, look out! It’s a gigantic spider!”

 _“You know it’s not really there, right?”_ Rhett let slip the reference, and instantly one of the lighting crew groaned. “Sorry.” He could _feel_ how red his cheeks were.

“Man, you are _terrible_ at this,” Link wondered aloud, a lingering smile on his lips. “How hard is it to not speak or look at me?”

 _“Really_ hard,” Rhett replied under his breath. He focused in on the camera lens again--ready to give his best come-hither look--when another hot, stabbing shot slipped up his back. With a pained sound he doubled over, hands on his knees.

“You know what, screw it. I’ve got an idea,” the coordinator drawled, nudging Link on the shoulder. “Go stand in front of him. Right in front of him.”

“What, _why?!”_ Rhett’s head snapped up in disbelief. “He’ll block the camera.”

“No, he won’t. We’ll get the right angle. Go stand with your partner,” the professional said, and with a shrug Link re-positioned himself not a foot away from Rhett, missing the color of the taller one’s face at the director’s phrasing. “Don’t bother looking at the camera anymore. Just talk to him. We’ll do burst shots and that’ll be it.”

“Hey,” Link said, smiling up at Rhett with that coy smirk he always wore, piercing him with those ice blue eyes.

At this distance, Rhett couldn’t say anything. He was grateful that it would go better if he didn’t, because he physically _couldn’t._

“You look like you wanna tell me something, McLaughlin.” Link clasped his hands behind his back, cocking his head to one side.

Rhett’s eyes flashed to Link’s exposed neck--the sloping line that tapered off at his collarbone peeking out from his hoodie. Just once. Just in time for the cameras to begin rapid fire, the bulbs going off from every direction.

“Wow. I feel like we should look up.” Link rocked back and forth on his heels with a giggle. “Like we’re missing fireworks. Or an opportunity to have a seizure.”

Rhett gave a gentle smile in response, half-lidded eyes roaming the softness of Link’s face. His bright eyes, his lopsided smile, the curves of his cheeks when he was happy like this. The dork made everything seem so simple, even when Rhett was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. Even if it was due to something as stupid as… _what_ had been the problem?

“It’s hot under all these lights. You’re red, Rhett. You feeling okay?”

Rhett swallowed and bowed his head just barely, unsure of whether it had even registered as a nod.

“If you’re not, you can tell me. You can tell me anything, Rhett.” The way his voice had grown tender, the way his blinks had slowed--had he taken another step in? Rhett’s throat was unbearably dry.

Where were they right now? Had Link always been so small? Had he always been so undeniably, irrefutably _needed_ \--

“That’s great! I think we got a few shots we can work with!” the coordinator yelled, clapping once to accentuate the announcement. “Thank you so much, Mr. Neal. And thank you, Mr. McLaughlin, for your cooperation. Always good to find creative solutions to problems like these.”

Rhett blinked hard, and Link was backing away. When he spun and spoke over his shoulder, “Wanna go grab lunch somewhere? I’ve got painkillers in the car,” Rhett broke out of his trance.

 

* * *

 

Rhett sat bowed at his kitchen table nights later, phone pressed to his ear and free hand pressed to his eyes. When someone picked up the line, he coughed. “Hello, this is Rhett McLaughlin. I need to have a shoot redone,” he sighed into the receiver, ignoring the pain in his back. “The reason?”

Dragging his fingers down to cover his mouth, he returned his gaze to the array of high-definition 8-by-11s spread across the tabletop. Photos where he was smiling like an idiot. Blushing from head to shoulders. Wearing a look so warm and vulnerable that he abso _l_ _utely_ could not share them with the public. He’d seen the look before--once--on a foray into a fan forum.

_Heart eyes._

“I don’t like the outfit,” he lied, cheeks ablaze.


End file.
